The Pacha of Many Tales eBook

But rapid as was my career, I was not fated to continue
in it long. Like the shot propelled from the
mouth of the cannon, which, in its extreme velocity,
is turned from the direction which has been given it
by glancing along the weakest substance, so was my
course of life changed from its direction by meeting
with a woman.

My father had a good customer; he had shaved him every
morning for years, had extracted every tooth in his
head, and was now winding up his long account by bleeding
him daily, under the direction of an ignorant apothecary.
I was often at the house—­not to bleed him,
for my father either thought him too valuable, or
was too grateful for past favours to trust him in
my hands;—­but I held the basin, procured
water, and arranged the bandages. He had a daughter,
a lovely girl, whom I adored in secret; but her rank
in life was too far above mine to allow me to express
my feelings. I was then a handsome young man,
although Time has since exerted his utmost, through
jealousy, to make me appear almost as old and ill-favoured
as himself. The young lady took a fancy to me,
complained of the toothache, and asked for remedies.
I offered to extract the tooth; but either having
heard of my reputation, or not wishing to remove the
excuse for our interviews, or, what is still more
probable, having no toothache whatever, she would not
consent.

The death of her mother, which had taken place when
she was a child, had left her without guidance,—­and
the helpless situation of her father, without protection.
Naturally of a warm temperament, and yielding to the
impulse of her feelings, she carried on an intimacy
which could only end in her disgrace; and, at the
expiration of a year, her situation could no longer
be concealed. I was now in a dilemma. She
had two brothers in the army, who were returning home,
and I dreaded their vengeance. I loved her very
much, but I loved myself more; so, one evening, I packed
up all that I could call my own, and all that I could
lay my hands on belonging to my honoured parent, and
shipped on board a Genoese vessel, which was then
standing out of the harbour. She was a large ship,
mounting twelve long guns, with a complement of sixty
men; being what is termed in European countries a
“letter of marque.” This implies that
she fights her way without convoy, capturing any of
the enemy’s vessels she may happen to fall in
with, who are not strong enough to resist her.
We had cleared out for Genoa with a cargo of lead,
which lay at the bottom of the hold, and which merely
served for ballast.

I soon found out, by the conversation of the crew,
that we were not to proceed to Genoa direct; in fact,
your highness, she was a pirate, manned by a most
desperate set of men. As soon as my qualifications
were made known, I had the honour to remove the beards
of sixty of the greatest villains that ever were permitted
to exist, receiving nothing but blows and curses for
my trouble. I certainly improved very much in